"Help! Help! He-e-elp!"
It was a boy's voice that rang out across the waters of the Saint Lawrence, from a dainty little rowboat that was lazily drifting down the river. The boy was Rob. He stood up in the bow of the boat, looking to the right and left for help; while Fred had dropped to the seat in the stern, where he sat, white and still, waiting and listening.
"Nobody yet," said Rob, trying to speak bravely, although his tone was far from cheerful. "We shall run across somebody soon."
"Aren't there some rapids down below here?" asked Fred anxiously.
"Ye-es," admitted Rob. "But I don't know just where they are. They're the salt—something or other. I've heard cousin Alice tell about going through them in a steamer. I wish I'd studied my geography a little more, and then I'd have known how far down they are."
This was the outcome of Rob's fishing expedition. Early that August afternoon, he and Fred had gone down to the lower end of the island, at some distance from the house. After Rob had fished for a half-hour, with but poor success, he proposed to Fred that they should sit in the little green and white boat that was drawn up on shore, and he would fish from there. Fred fell in with the idea, and the next minute the boys were luxuriously lounging in the stern, quite unconscious of the fact that their motions had rocked the boat until it had left the bank and was quietly drifting off down towards the Atlantic, with never an oar on board.
If the boys had but known it, their situation was far from alarming. It was still quite early, so there were yet several hours of daylight before them, and they would soon be seen and rescued. Still, it was not exactly pleasant to be slowly moving away from home, with a very uncertain prospect of returning in time for dinner. And added to Rob's alarm for himself was the uncomfortable feeling that he had been the means of getting Fred into a scrape, and that cousin Alice would wish she had not invited him to her house.
"Boat ahoy!" called a clear voice across the water.
Rob looked around and saw a little boat with one occupant suddenly turn from the shore, where it was creeping along in the shade, and come darting towards them, with a long, steady sweep of the oars that told of an experienced rower. He answered the call, and then turned to communicate the good news to Fred, as the other boat came quickly alongside.
"Throw me your painter," said the young man who was in the boat; "I'll take you in tow. But how did you two youngsters ever happen to get in such a plight?"